Timeless End
by Navy Babe
Summary: Prompt fill for MorbidbyDefault - Sherlock finds Molly alone in St. Bart's after a visit from Moriarty. He's dubbed them Romeo and Juliet and thinks it's time for them to play out their ending.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: I was home sick the other day and asked for Sherlolly prompts on tumblr - the lovely MorbidbyDefault gave me the prompt "Sherlock goes to Bart's and finds Molly swallowing a handful of pills." A bit angsty and then I put my dark and twisty spin on it. For right now, this is a one shot, but that could potentially change. :) Hope that you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nothing that you see here belongs to me! I own nothing.

* * *

Sherlock burst into the morgue, looking wildly for the petite pathologist who had become such a comfort to him while he was taking down Moriarty's network. He'd found out that Moriarty himself was still alive only a few months ago (of course he was, stupid; they were the same after all). And then tonight, while holed up in a safe house that Mycroft had arranged for him, he'd gotten a text from an unfamiliar number. It had been short but its message was clear as day.

_Found out about your little secret. Better get to Bart's and make sure your Juliet sees her Romeo one last time. -Mxx_

Sherlock had thrown caution to the wind and had run out of the safe house, not bothering with any of the disguises he usually put on before he went out anywhere. If Moriarty had gone after Molly…if something had happened to Molly…Sherlock would never forgive himself.

"Molly!" he shouted out, his mind filling with images of her body, mangled and broken, somewhere in the morgue.

"Office," he heard her, the word more of a strangled sob than anything. He let out a soft sigh of relief – at least she was alive and responsive. It was a small miracle. He ran to the office and his heart clenched as he saw Molly sitting at her desk, staring at a small bottle of unmarked pills and sobbing. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'm so sorry. He was here, he found out…I don't know how."

He came around to her and knelt, immediately wrapped her up in his arms, letting her cry into his chest. "It's all right, Molly. What did he tell you?"

She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. "He said…he said that I had to take these pills. That it wasn't fair that…that I changed the rules of the game. And then he said, he showed me these pictures of John and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade and said if I didn't, if I didn't play his game the right way, he'd kill them. And then he said he'd kill you too! I can't be responsible for their deaths, for your death, Sherlock. Not after all we've done, all I've done to save you!" Her arms wrapped around his neck and she hid her face in his neck, her tears wetting his skin.

"He said that I couldn't take them until you got here. He wanted you to see," she whispered, pulling back from him slightly. Sherlock turned his gaze to the pills, trying to figure out what they contained and if there was a way to trick Moriarty into thinking she'd taken them. It was obvious that she was somehow under surveillance; Moriarty was watching them right now somewhere…

As if Moriarty could read his mind, Sherlock's phone chimed just then with another text message.

_Tick tock, Sherlock. Time for the star-crossed lovers to take their medicine. –Mxx_

Sherlock's eyes hardened as he re-read the text. "What is it?" Molly whispered, sniffling.

"He wants me to take the pills too," Sherlock murmured, picking up the bottle and examining it closer. Molly snatched it out of his hand.

"No!" she protested, shaking her head violently. "No, Sherlock, you can't! He promised me you'd be safe! He said that if I followed his directions and took the pills then he'd let everyone else live."

He turned his full attention to her and his eyes hardened slightly. "Molly, do not ever think that my life is worth sacrificing yours," he muttered fiercely, cupping her cheek. Molly's eyes widened at his impassioned speech as she blankly nodded at him. Sherlock pulled up the two messages that Moriarty had sent him and showed them to Molly.

Her eyes widened as she read them and the full implications of his words sunk in. "So he wants us to die together? Why?"

Sherlock scoffed. "I'm sure that he has some story to tell the press. Exposing how you helped me fake everything…I imagine that he'll spin some story about how the guilt got to you and you committed suicide…and that I found you and was so distraught I took my own life, for real this time. He wants us to be Romeo and Juliet," he said, shaking his head as the words left his mouth.

"Will it be over? Do you think he'll leave everyone alone if we…if we do this?" Molly questioned tearfully. Sherlock shifted from kneeling beside Molly's chair to sitting down, his back against her desk. Molly hunched down towards him and his hand covered hers, the pills between them.

"I think so," he whispered, licking his lips slightly, his gaze focused completely on the bottle of pills. "His game is with me. He only dragged you into it because I did." At that, Sherlock looked up and met Molly's gaze. "I'm sorry for that, Molly. I never intended…I only wanted to keep all of you safe."

Molly bit her lip as she watched Sherlock fight to overcome the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. She bent forward and kissed his forehead. "I'm not sorry, Sherlock. I wouldn't give you up for anything. Anything." She shifted and held up the bottle, opening the cap and staring at the pills inside. "He said they all had to go. I suppose that means three each?"

Sherlock nodded silently, unable to believe that this was truly happening. "It must be a fairly powerful and concentrated poison…" he noted clinically, his hand shaking as he held it out and Molly dumped three pills into his palm. "I'll take them first. Your body is smaller…it'll take more time for the poison to absorb in my body."

Molly was crying silently now and Sherlock was a bit taken aback to feel his own tears tracking down his cheeks. She handed him a cup of water and he quickly knocked back the pills. Molly followed suit after. Sherlock laid his head against Molly's knees and she brought a hand down to stroke through his hair. Whatever it was, it was fast acting – his vision was blurring and he felt weak.

"I love you, Sherlock," Molly whispered. He gathered his strength and brought up his hand to her lap, flexing his fingers in invitation to her. Her hand slipped into his, their fingers intertwining.

"Love you too, Molly," he whispered. Right after, he felt her grip weakening, her body going limp beneath his.

His world was darkening and he couldn't help but think that this was far more peaceful than he ever imagined dying by poison would be…

* * *

Something was wrong. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like he had shoved an entire bag of cotton balls inside it and…he should be dead. His eyes shot open and he immediately regretted it. The lights in Molly's office weren't as bright as in the morgue, but were still much brighter than he was prepared for.

Wait. Molly.

He forced his eyes to open again and he implored his sluggish limbs to move. She was slumped over her desk and his shaking hand sought out her pulse, sighing with relief as he found it. She moaned under his touch and slowly opened her eyes. "Sherlock? Why aren't we dead?"

"I don't….I don't know," he muttered, trying to fit the puzzle pieces together in his mind. It was then that he noticed an envelope sitting in front of him, addressed to 'Romeo and Juliet.' He sucked in a nervous breath and he felt Molly shift and lean forward. He opened it and pulled out the handwritten note.

_Sherlock and Molly,_

_That was really quite a heartwarming scene to watch. Almost brought a tear to my eye. Molly-girl, you're lucky that Sherlock took the poison with you – all six pills would have killed you. And Sherlock, I rather think that you've shown your hand once again. Thanks for that. _

_You'll both be sick for the next few days. I'll wait until you're both feeling better to start playing our next game. Can't wait._

_-Mxx_

Sherlock had barely finished reading the letter before he was pulling out his phone and was calling Mycroft. "I need a car sent to Bart's right now, Mycroft. And I also need you to set up a safe house for Molly Hooper. It needs to be the most secure location you can think of." He hung up without another word and shakily got to his feet. "Are you all right, Molly? Can you stand? We need to get out of here; I don't know how long we've been unconscious."

Molly nodded and slowly stood up, grasping Sherlock's offered hand for support. Once she was standing, he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her up right. "I'm sorry, Sherlock," she murmured as he helped her gather her things and walk out of the morgue.

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure why she was apologizing, but Molly often felt responsible for things that were wholly out of her control. "Not your fault, Molly. None of this is your fault." They made it out the door and into the cool shade of the loading dock, the same place that Mycroft's car had picked them up after Sherlock's fall. Molly leaned heavily against Sherlock and he dropped a soft kiss on top of her head. "I will keep you safe, Molly. He won't get to you again." As Molly trembled beside him, he'd never felt more determined to finish this game once and for all.


	2. Chapter 2

Notes: This wasn't intended as more than a one-shot, but...surprise! It is. After a few people asked, I felt the need to tie up some loose ends. This is my first time actually writing Moriarty, so I hope that he's all right. There's a bit of canon-typical violence in this chapter, just as a warning. Hope that you guys enjoy!

* * *

When Molly overheard Sherlock tell his brother to set up the most secure location he could think of, she never would have imagined that they would be pulling up to a grand manor in the country. Her eyes were wide as they pulled into the drive and she looked to Sherlock for guidance. "Sherlock, what are we doing here? This doesn't look like a safe house."

He smirked slightly. "It's the safest house I know, Molly. Trust me." The car stopped and Sherlock got out and while Molly was still gobsmacked over the house, he ran around to the other side of the car and opened the door for her, helping her out. "This is the house that Mycroft and I grew up in, Molly. Our mother still lives here…this is probably the safest place in all of the United Kingdom for you. Moriarty will not be able to reach us here."

His arm wrapped around her waist as they walked up to the door and a man (probably a butler and Molly couldn't stop staring at him because he was an honest to god _butler_) immediately opened the door. Sherlock nodded to him and quietly thanked him. "Your mother is in the sitting room," the other man told Sherlock.

Molly stared openly as they moved through the house, presumably headed for the sitting room. It was beautiful. She tried to imagine a little Sherlock and Mycroft playing in this house, with its massive hallways and vaulted ceilings, but she could only imagine them running experiments and pulling each other's hair. She probably wasn't all that far off. Sherlock's arm still hadn't left her waist and she blushed slightly as they walked into the sitting room and Sherlock greeted his 'Mummy' without removing his hand from her. "Mummy, this is Molly Hooper. She'll be staying with us while Mycroft and I sort out this Moriarty business."

"You know about Moriarty?" Molly blurted out. If her parents were alive, there was no way that she would let them know anything about the madman that was apparently now out for her blood as well as Sherlock's. But the older woman who was preparing tea for them simply smiled at her knowingly.

"Oh yes, dear, of course I know about Moriarty. I take it that Sherlock hasn't told you what I used to do for a living then?" Molly shook her head mutely. Sherlock's mum smiled again and stood, coming to stand in front of Molly. She held out her hand and Molly tentatively grasped it, shaking it a few times. "I'm Violet Holmes. I used to work for MI-5. What my boys get up to is no secret, Molly. It is all right if I call you Molly, isn't it?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, that's fine, Mrs. Holmes," Molly said, looking briefly to Sherlock for guidance, but his face was blank and he appeared to be studying the interaction between herself and his mother.

"Oh, dear, please call me Violet." She turned slightly towards Sherlock and opened her arms expectantly. Sherlock went willingly into her embrace, even bending around her slightly as if seeking comfort. He pulled back after a moment and Violet shook her head slightly. "You've been very dense if you thought that Moriarty wouldn't drag Molly into this, dear. You're lucky that you're both alive right now."

His head ducked down at the chastising and Molly couldn't help but be fascinated. They seemed so…normal. Like any mother and son. Violet then took her hand and led her over to the couch, pouring her tea like any gracious hostess would. "Mycroft said that you would both be sick for a few days because of the pills, but I figured that a spot of tea would get you on the right track. After this, Sherlock can show you to your room and you can sleep it off. I want you to know, Molly, that you are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. My boys have made sure that my security detail is the absolute best and failing that, I am very good with a gun. You will be safe here."

Molly, not knowing what else to do, simply nodded. Sherlock sat across from them and remained oddly silent as his mother handed him a tea cup, after serving Molly and herself. "Now, Molly dear, I must thank you for all that you've done for Sherlock. As brilliant as he and his brother believe themselves to be, I don't think that this whole scheme would have worked without you." Her eyes glimmered slightly as Molly took a sip of her tea. "If you ever tire of pathology, I'm sure that I know some people who would be very interested in you."

Molly sputtered and put her cup down in her saucer and looked over to Sherlock who rolled his eyes. "Mummy, please. Molly has no intention of becoming a spy. You're almost as bad as Mycroft," he said, nearly whining. Molly took a sip of her tea just to hide her giggles. This day just kept getting progressively stranger.

"I just want Dr. Hooper to know all of her options," Violet said matter of factly, before turning to Molly again and smiling.

Molly tentatively smiled back. "Thank you…Violet. I'm flattered but…I could never be a spy. Sometimes when I come home, my cat manages to sneak up on me. I don't think I'd be a very good secret agent." Violet laughed and patted Molly's hands affectionately. Molly couldn't help but marvel that this was the woman who had raised Sherlock Holmes. Molly hadn't expected her to be so warm and _almost_ ordinary.

Molly told Violet a bit about her work and how she got to know Sherlock as they finished their tea. Sherlock, notably, remained rather silent, choosing instead to simply study them as they conversed. Eventually, in the middle of a story, Molly let loose a rather large yawn. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she apologized. Violet waved it off. "You've been through quite the ordeal today, Molly. And you will be feeling a bit under the weather from the pills. I've kept you too long down here. Sherlock, dear, will you take Molly up to her room please?"

He nodded briefly and much to Molly's surprise, stood and offered her his hand. She thanked Violet for the tea and stood, tentatively taking his hand and intertwining their fingers. They walked in silence through the huge house, Molly's eyes drinking in the sights. They went up the stairs and Sherlock stopped at a door about halfway down the hall. "This will be your room for the remainder of your stay," he said quietly.

The room was large, much larger than her room in her flat, but it was still somehow cozy. There was a queen-sized bed in the corner of the room and a small couch and bookshelf in the opposite corner. There was a door that she assumed lead to a bathroom, an armoire, and then another door. Sherlock noticed her gaze lingering on the second door and he cleared his throat slightly. "That door leads to my room. I will leave it unlocked in case you need anything. As you know, I rarely sleep, so don't feel any need to knock." Molly nodded and Sherlock looked around the room. "You should find clothing that will fit in the armoire. If not, we'll have some delivered by tomorrow."

He turned his attention back to Molly, who was standing there and biting her lip, looking up at him uncertainly. He reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Molly, are you all right?"

She shrugged and looked up at him briefly, before stepping into his personal space and winding her arms around his waist. Instinctively, he brought his arms up and held her to him, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "We almost died, Sherlock," she whispered into his chest.

"You are safe here, Molly. I will not let Moriarty harm you," he replied, his voice soft but determined. "I will help Mycroft take down the network from here – I won't leave you alone again."

She squeezed his waist slightly and he squeezed back in reply. Taking a deep breath, Molly stepped back slightly, but didn't quite break their embrace. "Can you stay with me? Just for now, just until I fall asleep."

He nodded quietly and together, they walked over to the bed. Molly went to the armoire to pick out something to sleep in, while Sherlock just toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his suit coat, draping it over the footboard of the bed. She took the clothes into the bathroom to change and quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face before coming back out to the room.

Sherlock was sitting on the bed and he stood when Molly came back out. She slid underneath the covers, her back to the wall and she watched as Sherlock got into bed beside her, mirroring her positioning. Much to her surprise, he reached out and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together and stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He'd been so gentle with her this entire time and she couldn't help but remember what he'd said right before they both fell unconscious…at least, what she thought he said….

_Love you too, Molly…_

She was asleep in no time at all. Sherlock stayed, watching over her, for far longer than he anticipated.

They fell into a sort of routine over the next few days. They'd all have breakfast together, Violet, Molly and Sherlock. Then Sherlock and Molly would usually go and explore the house; she'd taken a particular interest in the library, so they spent quite a bit of time there. Then Sherlock would usually disappear and Molly would spend a few hours in the afternoon with Violet. The woman was absolutely remarkable, Molly had decided. Her life was completely fascinating and she had stories about Sherlock as a child – Molly could listen to her talk forever. They'd all have supper together and then occasionally spend some time together in the evening and then they'd retire.

Despite the fact that Sherlock had his own room next door, Molly had found that he didn't spend much time there. He'd let her get ready and then he'd knock on her door and they'd spend a few hours talking or simply reading together before she went to bed. Sherlock would always lie down with her and one night, she actually woke up in the middle of the night to find that he had fallen asleep as well. It seemed that he was determined to truly not leave her alone.

One night as they were lying in bed and quietly talking, Molly leaned forward and kissed him. Sherlock's eyes widened almost comically as she pulled back and smiled at him. His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he was preparing to speak but couldn't quite find the right words. Molly smiled and shook her head gently. "I just…want to say thank you, Sherlock. And I remember what we said to each other, right after we took the pills. And we don't have to do anything about it. But…I remember. And I still feel the same way."

He swallowed thickly, his hand coming up to brush against her cheek. He rose up next to her and nudged her slightly, pushing her onto her back so that he hovered over her. She lifted her hands to rest against his chest and he dipped his head down to lightly kiss her. "I feel the same way too, Molly," he whispered against her lips.

She smiled and tugged him down for another kiss. They spent the next half hour or so just kissing and touching each other, until Molly's eyes were drooping with fatigue. Sherlock smiled and kissed her gently one last time, before settling down next to her and pulling her to him. She curled around his body, her head on his chest, as the sound of his steady heartbeat lulled her to sleep.

In retrospect, that night was the calm before the storm.

The next day, Violet had to travel into town to meet an old friend. One of Mycroft's men had called and said that he had information, so Sherlock was away for a few hours as well. Molly wasn't concerned though, she knew that there were still guards all around the estate. She wasn't concerned at least, until she got a text from Sherlock. He told her that she was needed and that there'd be a car there for her in 20 minutes. She sought out Paul, the butler that she'd met that first day, to tell him that Mycroft had sent a car for her. He'd raised an eyebrow, but simply nodded and said that he'd cancel the tea service for that afternoon.

She hadn't thought that anything was out of the ordinary even when the car pulled up to an old warehouse. She had been accosted by Mycroft Holmes enough times to know that he had quite a flair for the dramatic and a penchant for large abandoned spaces. She was fairly certain it had to do with the way that his shoes would echo on the floor. She did however, start to worry when she stepped inside the warehouse and it was dark. "Hello? Mycroft? Sherlock?"

She barely felt the needle that pushed the sedative into her bloodstream.

* * *

"What do you mean that you don't have an operative named Warwick? He called me and knew the code. He said that you had information," Sherlock all but shouted at his brother.

"I mean exactly that. I have no informant that goes by the name Warwick. You have been played, little brother, and I think that we can only assume that it's Moriarty's doing. The more important question now is why? Why would he lure you out here?" Mycroft said, trying to calm Sherlock down.

Of course, that just incensed him more. "The only reason would be to get at Molly, but he can't possibly get to her." His phone went off just then and Sherlock rolled his eyes, picking it up. He paled when he saw the message. "I stand corrected," he muttered, turning the phone to show Mycroft.

On the screen, there was a picture of Molly, unconscious and bound to a chair. His phone chimed again and a message appeared below it.

_Looks like your Juliet is asleep for now, Sherlock. Come and play. Mxx_

The phone chimed yet again, this time with just an address. Sherlock gritted his teeth. "He has her, Mycroft. I promised her that she'd be safe and somehow he's gotten to her." He slammed his fists against the table, rattling the objects sitting there. "This ends now."

* * *

Molly jerked awake suddenly, squinting around the unfamiliar room. She tried to move her limbs, but she realized that she was bound, quite firmly, to a chair. Her vision cleared and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever was about to come. Jim was standing in front of her, a deceivingly innocent smile on his face. "Ah, Miss Molly. Perfect timing. Romeo should be sweeping in here any minute now."

She glared at him. "Whatever your plan is, Jim, it won't work. Sherlock's cleverer than you. He always has been."

He smirked and came closer, his fingers brushing against her cheek. She tried to jerk her head away, but it was difficult to escape when she couldn't move her arms or legs. "Nah. Sherlock's ordinary. He fell for this plan so easily. All I had to do was send him a little false information, send you a text from 'Sherlock'…it was so easy, Molly. So easy."

He pulled up a chair that was behind him and sat down in front of her. "You know," he said, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him, "I would have left you alone. After you broke up with poor little Jim from I.T. that would have been the last you saw of me, Miss Molly. Sherlock's the one to blame for this. If he hadn't dragged you into this, you wouldn't be sitting here with me now."

She glared at him as he continued to grip her chin. "I wouldn't do anything differently. Because he'll beat you, Jim. I have no doubt about it."

He chuckled. "You always were a feisty one, Molly. I can see why Sherlock took a shine to you. I can't wait to see how he reacts when he kills you." She forced herself not to react – she could tell that Jim was watching her just to see her face. "Oooh, very good. Mummy Holmes was right; you would make a good spy."

"How did you know that?" she asked without thinking.

Jim smiled. "Please, Molly. Think. Just think. I know that you're clever."

"Listening devices in our clothes. When you left that letter for us after we took the pills," she said softly, piecing it together quickly.

"Very good. I was surprised that Sherlock didn't think of it, but he was so concerned about getting his little Juliet to safety…" He stroked his finger along her cheek and her jaw clenched, trying not to react to him, even though every instinct was telling her to recoil. "You've made him so ordinary, Molly. I can't wait to watch him fall apart after you die."

She ground her teeth. That was the second time that he mentioned her dying. Had he injected her with some sort of poison? No…no, he'd want it to be a game. She was trying to figure it out when she heard someone enter the warehouse, calling for her. Sherlock.

Automatically, some of the tension left her body. If Sherlock was here, things would be ok. They had to be. "Molly?"

"She's right here, loverboy! Just waiting for you to get the party started," Jim called out, smiling over at her. She resisted the urge to shiver in disgust.

Sherlock was there in a second, panting slightly as he dropped to his knees and cupped her cheek. "Are you all right?"

She nodded but before she could answer, Jim spoke up. "Of course she is. Just had a nice little nap, that's all. Like I said, we couldn't start the party until you got here." He stood up from his chair, towering over the two of them. Sherlock slowly stood as well and stepped slightly in front of Molly, instinctively trying to protect her from the madman in front of him.

"What do you want now, Moriarty?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Jim smiled. "To finish an old game, Sherlock." He pulled out a small vial of pills. "Recognize them? From your first case with Dr. Watson. I know that the pills seem so boring, but it seemed necessary to come full circle. I like to wrap things up with a nice little bow."

"What's the game?" Sherlock asked, not moving, even as Moriarty paced around him. His eyes kept track of the other man.

"Oh come on now, you know that. Explain it to poor Molly here; she's a little bit behind the rest of the class."

He swallowed thickly and turned to Molly slightly, still keeping his eye on Moriarty. "Poisoned pills. I'm assuming one is poisonous and the others are not. He'll give us each a pill and I will have to decide who takes which one."

"Very good," Jim said, smiling at both of them. "I never got to find out if you guessed correctly last time. John didn't play by the rules. So we're just making up for lost time, with an extra player." He had moved behind them and grabbed at Molly's ponytail, tugged her head back. Sherlock tensed, as if to attack. Jim smiled at him and let her go. "Seems like the stakes are so much higher with her here. I should thank you for getting her involved, Sherlock. I never would have imagined the game would have been quite this fun. You know, if you're the one who ends up getting the bad pill, maybe Miss Molly and I can have a nice little reunion." He smiled lecherously at her and Molly blanched, closing her eyes tightly.

Sherlock's eyes hardened and he suddenly withdrew a gun from his pocket. Jim yawned. "Really, Sherlock, I'd be embarrassed if I said I didn't notice the gun when you walked in. Are we really going to play this game again?" He snapped his fingers, once, twice, before giving a shout of frustration. "What the fuck do I PAY YOU ALL FOR?" he shouted at what appeared to be empty air.

Molly's eyes widened. She'd never seen Jim like this and for the first time, she could absolutely picture all of the stories that John and Sherlock had told her about him. Sherlock seemed completely in control, still pointing the gun at Moriarty. He brought a hand up to steady it. "They're gone, Jim. It's just us. My big brother can be rather useful sometimes."

Jim turned back to him, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "No matter. You won't actually do it. I know you, Sherlock, remember? We're the same. You won't kill me because we have too much fun."

Sherlock, without even blinking, fired a shot straight into Moriarty's shoulder. The other man shouted and fell to his knees, looking up at Sherlock in shock. "Wrong. I don't care about the game anymore. I ceased to care the minute that you threatened those that I hold dear. It's over, Moriarty. I've won." He then fired two shots straight into Moriarty's head. No faking this time. He bent down to take his pulse, just in case, before speaking to whom Molly could only assume was Mycroft. "He's dead. Send in the clean-up crew."

Immediately, a team swept into the warehouse and Sherlock turned to Molly, hurrying over to her and dropping to his knees to untie her. She collapsed into his arms and he curled around her as the team came in and swept the place, making sure that everyone was truly out of danger. A few men wheeling a gurney and an empty body bag went past them as well.

Molly was shaking as Sherlock held her and whispered to her. "I'm so sorry, Molly. I'm so sorry. It's over now; you're safe. He can't hurt us. He'll never hurt us again, Molly." She nodded and looked up at him, clutching at his shirt desperately and tugging him down for a kiss.

They broke apart and she buried her head in his shoulder. "Just take me home, Sherlock. Please." He nodded and helped her up, keeping an anchoring arm around her waist as she leaned against him. It was exactly the way they had last walked out of St. Bart's together.

There was a car waiting outside and Mycroft was waiting for them as they slipped into it. "Well done, Sherlock. I was worried that you wouldn't give my team enough time to take out the snipers. But I suppose I shouldn't have been worried with Dr. Hooper's safety in the balance." The elder Holmes raised an eyebrow at the fact that Molly was still curled around Sherlock – and more importantly, that Sherlock was equally curled around Molly, but Sherlock didn't rise to the bait.

"How long until we can go back to London?" he asked gruffly, as Molly's focus darted between the two Holmes brothers.

"Only a few more months. You'll need to stay in hiding until we are certain that you will not face retaliation from certain members of his web. For the most part, we think that most of his associates will be happy to be out from under his thumb. There may be a few renegades that we will have to deal with. Dr. Hooper should be safe though, if she'd like to return to London."

Molly shook her head slightly and glanced up at Sherlock, who simply tightened his arm around her. "Molly's staying with me for the time being."

Mycroft's lip curled up in a small smile. On anyone else, Molly would say that it seemed insincere, but there was something in his eyes that told her otherwise. "As you wish. I take it that we are returning to Mummy's then?" After a slight nod from Sherlock, Mycroft tapped the window between the passengers and the driver and the car began to move.

Even though she didn't want to, the motion of the car and the come-down from the adrenaline had Molly's eyes fluttering shut. Sherlock, of course, noticed and his hand came up to press her head against his chest. She smiled up at him sleepily and he bent his head, softly kissing her lips. "I'll wake you up when we get there," he whispered. She nodded and snuggled against his side, almost immediately dropping into a light slumber.

Sherlock stroked her arm absently as he looked out the window at the passing scenery, very obviously avoiding his brother's gaze. "Oh what is it, Mycroft?" he finally broke, spitting out his question.

His brother, just smiled his strange little smile again. "You seem at peace, Sherlock. I haven't seen you like this in a very long while."

He grunted in response and turned his head towards the window again. They rode along in silence until Sherlock spoke up. "Thank you for all of your help. I could not have done it without you." He still hadn't looked over at his brother.

Mycroft's strange smile widened. "Of course, little brother."


End file.
